


Heroes aren’t always good

by FallenRosePetals



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenRosePetals/pseuds/FallenRosePetals
Summary: Heroes aren’t always good, but you’d know that better than anyone wouldn’t you... Wynter?Everyone makes difficult choices, and eveyone makes mistakes. But they don’t define us. Wynter Storm-Rose, as Dragonborn and a leader of many holds, has made difficult choices. And she’s made mistakes. 3 years after coming to Skyrim, with her seemingly perfect life of an adventurous married maiden with friends in high places and people willing to give their lives for hers, people don’t know what goes on in the dark shadows that surround her.And they don’t know the twisted story that is her past.But when the shadows begin to suffocate and the past beckons you, who can you call when you’re the strongest of them all?And how can you protect those close to you if they don’t really know you at all? And can the lies and twisted truths be trusted after all?*CONTAINS SKYRIM SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. BE WARNED.*





	1. Chapter 1: Start Of the Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, I would like to say that while this relates to my Skyrim character, and does include spoilers, there will be details that are not cannon to the game and it’s peoples, ok? (Obviously a bunch of this isn’t cannon) I would also like to add that this book includes things from ESO as well.  
> But please don’t hate on details that are changed for the story. Thank you. Much love.

Heroes aren’t always good. And I’m proof of that. 

These were the thoughts that filled my head as I layed down to sleep. A small sigh escaped my lips as I turned to my side. There, laid my 2 little girls. They weren’t really mine I guess, but I’d adopted them, and according to the parchment, they were mine by law.  
I’d adopted them both 3 years ago, when I’d first come to Skyrim. Both girls had been 5 at the time. The thought made me cringe. Is that why I’d done it? Adopting them? Because they were so young, too young to be without parents. And that old hag that used to run the orphanage... I shook the thought out of my head. I’d done a good thing with that contract. But then I looked at Britte’s face. And I could see her twin.  
Another reason why heroes aren’t always good.  
My girls.  
I’d adopted them Because I killed their parents.  
They were only 5 at the time, too young to know what had happened.  
Dorthe.. she’d been in the house when I killed her father. I could’ve killed him outside, like her mother... It’s been so long I can’t even remember my reason. And Britte... her father was good for nothing. Abused her and her sister.  
I shook those thoughts out of my head before falling asleep.  
That night I had dreams of the past.  
How I had came to Skyrim, all the way from the rolling green hills of Storm Haven, all the way from my fathers inn.  
I was 18, officially of age to be married off. As a nobles daughter, and “one of the prettiest little things they’d ever seen” I was highly wanted as a bride for many noble sons. I was just an inn worker, but they could over look that for my beauty. And my father left that choice to himself. A nice, rich, handsome Breton suitor from  
Glenumbra. A brave warrior who’d fought at Camlorn.  
But he was awful. Abusive, manipulative.  
And he was fake. He had this persona, one of the most corrupt nobles.  
I was forced into being his bride, and it was cruel. So it was only natural that I’d run.  
I told my step-mother goodbye in the dead of night, and she helped me saddle up and off I was.  
Riding, running, hiding. Staying in dimly lit taverns, living life in fear of being found.  
And then I was at the border.  
After boat ride after boat ride, I was there. And I’d nearly made it.  
But then the solider caught me.  
Grabbing my hair as I ran, he tried to cut me. But he missed. And I remember using the opportunity to run before I was caught again.  
And then I was asleep, the most sound sleep I’d had in months. Before I was woken up due to the bumpiness of the cart. With my hands bound and others around me, a man greeted me and told me where I was.  
And that we were going to die.  
When asked my name I thought it was a chance. Despite the execution hanging over my head, I lied. “My name is Wynter Storm-Rose.” I said it loud, clearly. It was not my name. But no one would know that here. Because I could see a wanted poster with my face on it. And I knew that I looked different, older. And with short hair no one would know.  
And I was saved from death by the very thing I would have to kill later. Alduin. 

Then it’s all history.  
After fleeing with a soldier, I came to Whiterun, where I joined the companions and became thane. And I’ve travelled all over, and for 3 years I’ve been known as a hero, the Dragonborn, I ended the rein of the Empire, I helped Kodlak Whitemane Achieve Sovngarde, I’ve saved thousands of people. But I’ve killed just as many.  
Joining the Dark Brotherhood, and the Thieves guild, I’ve killed and stolen and cheated for pleasure. And I kill so many to be named a hero. Bandits, faithless, people considered worthless.  
So no. Heroes aren’t always good. 

The next morning I awake to the sound of laughter downstairs.  
There, I find my husband playing with the girls.  
“My love!” Vilkas exclaims. “I’d have thought you’d have left by now, I assumed you intended to meet with Jarl Skald as soon as possible?” He said, walking to me. He put an armored hand on my cheek and for a second I thought nothing of it until I noticed the smell. The smell of steel and blood, one I know well.  
I could feel my eyes darken but I smiled at him. “Vilkas, darling Jarl Skald is only a short carriage ride away from here. I can leave when I wish, there was no hurry. But my love, I need to speak with you privately. Girls, would you mind accompanying Lydia to the market?”  
“But, Mama! You’ve only been home a little while-“ Britte tried to reason.  
“And I’ll be home when you return, but I need to speak to Papa.”  
Dorthe quietly whispered to her sister before the agreed and the 3 left the house to go to the market circle.  
I stepped back from my husband. “You went hunting without me.” It wasn’t a question and he didn’t take it as one.  
“My love-“  
“Vilkas. You went hunting without me, I can smell the blood. I haven’t gotten to feast in weeks!” I growled.  
He looked at me with sorrow. “You’d just gotten home My love, and the girls needed time with their mother. They’re only 8 and you’re away so much..”  
“Vilkas, I could have slipped away. An hour wouldn’t have done anything.”  
And we continued to argue, arguing over the state of the companions after Kodlaks passing, arguing over whether or not I was meant to be in charge, over everything, ignoring the original problem And when we heard the door open, I grabbed my dagger, hiding it within my dress and gently took the girls hands. “Let’s go girls, let’s play a game with your friends!”  
Once outside however, I was met with a courier.  
“Wynter Storm-Rose?”


	2. Death by the hand of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death by the hand of love

“Wynter Storm-Rose?” Asked the courier.   
I took a moment to look down at my girls before answering. “Yes? What can I do for you?”   
“My lady, I have a letter for you.” He spoke, digging through the bag he carried with him.   
“From who?” He shrugged, still looking for the letter.   
“A woman. Her face was covered and she just said she was family. Said you’d know what it meant.”   
Oh. Right.   
I smiled when he finally handed me the parchment. “Thank you. I think I know who it’s from.”   
“Well that’s it, got to go.”   
And he was gone.   
Opening the sealed parchment, I read the content and sighed.   
So it’s time then.   
I smiled down at the girls once more before sending them off to their friends.   
I turned and walked back inside, grabbing my armor and leaving. 

Upon arrival at the sanctuary, I was greeted by the cool mist surrounding the black pond, and pushed open the black door.   
Through the hall, Astrid leaned against the wall, waiting.   
“Hello, Sister. I didn’t expect you so quickly.” She said, the hollow smile on her lips.   
I simply nod at this. “I came quickly. The faster the kill, the more blood gets shed sooner and the quicker we get our pay. Along with the real target.”   
This brought a light to her eye, and she laughed.   
“You’ve always been the eager one. Go to your siblings, they’ve information for you.” 

And I was off.   
The looming gate of Solitude stood before me, and I walked in knowing it’d be tough to get out. 

I let out a sigh of relief as my horse stopped at the stables of Whiterun.   
Getting off, and leaving her to the care of the stablemaster, I make my way back inside the city, greeting the guards as I go.   
I open the door to my home, only to have a sword at my throat with my husband at its hilt.   
“Vilkas? My love I know you’re angry but is there a need to kill me?”   
He makes no noise, only looking at me with a blank look. The look he has when he’s on a job.   
As he goes to remove my head from my body, I grab his blade in my armored hand and move it away from my neck before drawing my own blade. A battle is quickly underway, destroying the house in the process.   
Just as he is about to pierce my armor, I quickly lock his blade with mine and back him into a wall.   
“Vilkas, What is wrong with you?!-“ before I can shout more, he pushes me off and I nearly fall into the fire.   
Clearly there is no talking this out.   
I steel myself and grit my teeth, and lunge. My ebony blade Pierces his armor and stabs through him. The hit sends him back, as he clutches where he’s been hurt.   
“I don’t want to kill you Vilkas, but you may just force my hand.”   
Even to me, my voice sounds dead. It is the voice of a cold assasin, ready to kill, the voice of someone who no longer cares, the voice of someone who has been in this situation before and will have no regrets upon completion of this deed.   
He glares up at me, before a cough spewing blood escapes from his lips. And he hands me a wanted poster. One that has my face on it, with a note on the back. A job offer for my death, my head on a pike.   
“You were stupid enough to agree? To kill your harbinger?” I don’t say his wife. Because at this point, that would have no meaning.   
But I see him flinch when I mention my title, my superiority over him.   
I tsk. “By my authority, I hereby banish you from the companions. With authority from Jarl Graymane, I intend to have you banished from Whiterun to live your days traveling as a mercenary or however you choose to live. But you are no longer welcome here.” I notice the intense sorrow that clouds his gaze as my words settle over him, and I turn to walk away, when I feel the cold air of a blade slice into my side.   
He’s got a good nick of my side, and as I turn back to face him, a blade cuts my cheek, and I feel the blood drip down my face.   
As he coughs and sputters, blood dripping from his mouth and open wound, I slash.   
And stab. And repeat.   
Before he is a mess on the floor, with glazed over eyes.   
I sigh, wiping the blood from my cheek. And deposit him into the fire. It’s not a pleasant smell, but the smell of flowers soon overtakes it, as the ashes slip to the bottom of the pit, leaving melting armor, and a blade.   
I carefully take the hot blade and place it within the basin of water to cool.   
Britte will like her fathers blade.   
And I clean. And by nightfall, when the girls open the door, giggling and laughing, they see me.   
Waiting in a chair, with a clean dress on and a smile on my face. “Girls!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, bye! ~FallenRosePetals


End file.
